Rihanna

I sympathise with Rihanna with what happened to her. I love her, I feel her pains better. But, in a way I'm happy, because I never liked Chris Brown. I hated the guy. And I never approved of Rihanna Fenty going around with Chris Brown. Now that she has got beaten up by him, I'm glad that my suspicions have been proved right, beyond my imagination!! But, the sight of my beloved's face smashed up is too tormenting!

Despite all that, the newsletters quote her as saying "I still love Chris"!!

Outrageous!

The Post-Blues-Bliss

Ah, happiness tastes so great when it comes after intense sorrow!

Okay, let me start where I left off. I'm just back from a weekend at Durgapur. A torturous one, at that. No, don't be surprised. The visits to Durgapur, my home, are always torturous. My 'family' gets suicidal at self-fabricated meaningless crap-like issues. My brother, the only reason why I smile when I do, the only reason why I am still alive, the only reason, why I go to Durgapur at all, is there, his ICSE starting in a week. I wish I could bring him here with me. But, I know that would only worsen things beyond repair! Anyway, this visit's special characteristic was, that, for the first time, I was scared for him. I was scared that my brother isn't safe there, with pathetic psychopaths for company all day. Anyway, we had our own happy moments, the chicken-patty-cum-chocolate feast on the first evening and the "toilet song" downloading on the second evening. I had few teary moments, except the one on the first night, because, I went off to sleep everytime 'things' started.

I had a realisation on the first night, for the umpteenth time, of course...there is a difference between pre-recorded MP3 music and songs sung to me by certain people. Rupam numbers, by Puspen. Most english songs, by Tiyash. Asoka's Roshni Se number by Disha. And, yeah, almost all songs by Disha. Her voice adapts to all indian music quite easily. Puspen and Rupam go together, for me. So, I just can't risk asking anyone else to sing Ekla Ghar to me!

Anyway, I didn't have anyone singing lullabies to me that night. On the second night, I listened to Whisky Lullaby, by Braid Paisley and Alison Krauss. Gaurav had given that to me during Xavotsav, i.e., the last week of January. Finally, I heard it. And I loved it. It described a suicide in a beautiful way. Bro said I love all depressing songs. No, that, is certainly, not true! Though, I can't find a depressing song now that I didn't like.

Ok, I had oats for the first time. Though I'd heard it is awful, I loved it. Maybe, I like that kinda taste...or maybe, for a change, it was prepared better at my home!

I had rabri too. Oh, yes, it wasn't entirely depressing, I had my share of happy moments, I'm telling you. But, the happiness wasn't BIG enough to overshadow the ugly moments.

Anyway, after I'd left home today, in a rush, I just realised that I didn't bid Bye to Dida before leaving. Somehow, that brought a lump in my throat, under the scorching afternoon sun, on the dusty lonely road, I had to squint and make a face to swallow the lump. I called her up and apologised a while later. In spite of all the hatred and indifference, there's a bit of 'care', a bit of 'longing' at times. Is that love? I wish not.

The bus journey was torturous again, the amn beside had dandruff, yeah much much more than me, else I wouldn't be complaining. He slept with his head on my arm all throughout. He was shorter, hence my arm. Whenever I removed my arm, he just comfortably shifted he head to my chest. On contrasting circumstances, this would have buoyed me up, making me feel fatherly! But his dandruff enraged me to such an extent, that, I found myself contemplating the consequences of my banging his head on the seat before! Forgive me for that.

My studies are progressing, slowly again. I have given up. It's impossible to pass in this exam. Even if I start working hard. I've given up. 

Anyway, coming back to Kolkata, I celebrated my acquisition of money, by recharging my Vodafone number with 444. I bought 3 packs of Gold Flake. AAHH, my brand, after 10 long days. I bought a handsfree for my Sony Ericsson phone, at 100 bucks. The best part is that, it's an original one! I got it at 1/15th the original price. That's why I'm happy.

Again!

Yeah, again! Now I know why Rupam keeps singing the same stuff; and Coelho keeps writing the same stuff. If I was professional, I would have turned up with similar stuff over and over again during this phase. I dunno what makes me sour now. Let's find out. A challenging afternoon, one that tested my self-control to its limits, so much so, that finally, my tears became shameless! Then a troubling nap for less than hour. A failed effort to cook up something. Yeah, to cheer my self up, I tried making an egg-roll. Fast food is always an uplifter. For mood, for weight, alike. Anyway, I discovered that my stupid "home" has a "stupider" kitchen. No white oil. I used a combination of Mustard oil and Butter, in an 1:2 ratio. Then, I discovered that there's no vegetable, no curry, to use inside the 'roll'. I used raw onion. Yeah, Tiyash is right, I finally agree. Raw onion doesn't taste well in kathi-rolls. I should have fried it. Then I discovered that there's no ketchup. I remembered having finished the KFC pouches a week ago. The thing I finally 'manufactured' with the minimal raw material available, wasn't tasty enough to lift up a depressed mood. I made coffee. That was wonderful. In fact, the best coffee I tasted in a year! (the previous being prepared by my mother, on one of my pre-CBSE days!)

I SMSed randomly. Few replies came. Anyway, why should, anyone at all, have time for me? The last SMS I sent was "Thanks for your time. I hope I can study NOW." 

I studied a couple of pages, and finished the chapter on Secondary Storage. I decided that I have read enough of Computer Science. I can glance through the remaining 70% on the night before the exam. Mathematics deserves more time than I'm allotting for it. But before I sit down with Maths, I think I ought to pack my bags for tomorrow. I've got to take all the winter clothes back to Durgapur. In any case, I don't think I'm going to Bhutan on my own, before I pass college. So, there's no point in keeping the warm clothes here in my already over-stuffed room anymore. Whatsoever, before I start packing, I thought I'd make a short post about the eventless evening.

Anyway, I never told anyone of the experience I had on the way back from the Book Fair. It was the first time I had stood at the foot of the door on a bus. Only my feet, and my hands were inside the bus. The rest of me, alongwith my bag, was dangling outside. The ladies in the cabin were expressing their alarm. But, I was thrilled. Life had seemed to be devoid any trouble, then. The rush of wind on my face, brushing through my hair, slapping my eye-lids close, gave me a feeling what I best describe as momentary euphoria. Momentary, because, it was erstwhile, like every happy moment is. No sooner had I smiled to myself, than, the 'face' of my dreams, my nightmares, my reality, came back to memory. I was upset again. But, anyway, shoving aside the issue of 'happiness', the feeling of 'thrill' persisted, till the crowds thinned and I had to shift to the gloomy interior of the bus. But, that was after the bus had reached Ballygunj. From E.M. Bypass to Ballygunj, I was a wingless bird. Just felt like doing so a while ago today. Riding on the footstand of a speeding bus... 

Trouble-tree

No sooner have I managed to overcome "personal" predicaments, than impersonal issues have started building up. Trouble Tree starts at the academic level. Even if I sacrifice all necessities, I won't finish even half of the syllabus for my Selection tests. Next cometh financial issues. My Dad won't allow Mum to give me money, nor would he give me money himself. Ohk....famiy is a perpetually pestering element. Not because they care for me. But because they don't care for each other. Something more added to the Tree. SFI. This is what happened at college today.

I had no plans to go to college. I had planned to watch Billu Barber in the morning show and come back ho0me and study. Well, Dad gave me twenty bucks. So, no movie. I decided I'll go and do the first class at college. And come back...

Soon after the first class was over, and I was leaving the room, a classmate came up. should I mention his name here? Why not, no one's reading my blog anyway. Rajiv. He's been selected by the SFI for being the candidate for our class representative at the Ist Year Science panel. Ohk. He told me that he had some work with me, if I could kindly lend him some of my time. He's friendly with me, I'm friendly with him. Refusing him a bit of my time would be rude. I acoompanied him to wherever he took me to. Near the office. There were a number of people there. Before I could find out what it was all about, he said he needed a 'help'. Ah! What a perfect word to use. Was he in touch with my previous classmates, who knew that I'm one person who never refuses 'help'?

Okay, he took out a small paper. Explained it's meaning to me. It was a nomination paper for the Student's Union elections. My anti-politics self contracted. He kept assuring me that it doesn't have anything to do with politics. All I would have to do is put a signature on it, fill up my details and stuff, take it to the Principal's office, collect a form and bring it back to them. Well, 'them' refers to the SFI people. He's the candidate, yeah. But if his name doesn't come out in the final nominations due to typing errors etc, I'm a seconder. Some other classmates of mine are doing this too. It's all a precautionary measure. It doesn't have anything to do with politics. the form that I get from the office will be filled up by them, and Rajiv's name will be on it. Not mine. Okay, I said. He asked me whether I have any problem. I couldn't think of any. Excpet that I didn't have breakfast in the morning (true!) and I'm hungry and I don't have money enough to have something outdoors. No problem, he said. With a smile, of course. He made me fill up the form. Then, he and another guy took me to the canteen. Treated me to a plate of my favourite parathas and potatatoes, two cups of tea, two cigarettes. By then it was noon. I was taken to the office. The guy managing the huge crowds trying to enter was told of my hurry. I was alowed in within a few minutes. I saw two of the girls from durgapur (my hometown) there as well. Shit man! From the conversational morsels I overheard there, I guessed that it was an SFI business. The other party, DSO, had to fight their way to get into the crowd. There were jokes here and there that if they're too tired standing in the lines, they's say that they're DSU, not SFI. Anyway, it was not only 'too late for protest', but pointless, as well. I've been supprting SFI all throughout. At least, at my college, I preferred their modes of action to the DSO's ones. Anyway, the work at the office went off smoothly. I had put one more signature somewhere. I came out carrying out the form and my ID. Rajiv greeted me. I had asked him before "Why me?". He had cleverly replied "Because I want you. You're the kind of person whom anyone won't dare to say anything at. If something is aid at your face, you'll defend it. That's why. If you do this for me, I, personally would be grateful. You're helping ME, not anyone else.". Anyway, all politicians are clever. I'm not. Moreover, I'm too short-tempered for this business. Moreover, I'm too ignorant for this. Anyway, I had to submit my college-ID and that form the office people (professors) gave me. I dunno when I'll get my ID back. I have been strictly advised by Jayita in the morning that I should be possessive about my ID card now, till the elections. Anyone who gets my ID can cast my vote. Anyway, there's too much of irony in the entire affair to be bothered about this little one. Joga-da thanked me loudly. Rajiv thanked me a number of times. Another Prosenjit-looking dada thanked me. He's Joga-da's friend, I know him by face. Why are the SFI guys thanking me?

It's useless being foolish anymore. I'm a registered member now. Against my better judgement.

Trouble Tree grows taller. Now I can't bunk college on the election day. I'll fail in all the subjects. 

Basquiat

That's the person who painted the picture in my previous post. Yeah, I've been idolising him for quite a long time now. Now, I think, I just want to die a death like his, not live a life like his. I want to be a more responsible and sensible person. At least in the long run.

As I said in the morning, love is magic, at times at least. A cheerful meeting, few moments of laughter 'together', some harmless flirting, that's more than enough to change the whole way you have been looking at life, the whole way you have been living life. I didn't feel like smoking. That killer smile, those killer eyes... gosh!...they drive me crazy. I just don't even feel like smoking. I feel like, well, dancing, singing and smiling, all in front of the mirror (oh yeah, I hate the sight of myself when I'm "off"). Oh, and yeah, I feel energetic. Love is a form of energy, Paulo Coelho repeats that in almost all his books. Anyway, I ought to harness this energy now and do my work (Coelho's language again!). I ought to study.

Tomorrow holds bleak prospects again. That Shochi Mashi's daughter needs to be taken to the hospital. She's a real headache. Not because her daughter is sick; but because her priorities are muddled up. I told her to leave early in the morning with me, so that I'm free by 8:30am. She said in the most obstinate possible tone, that she can't leave before 9am at least! This is how she loves her daughter, this is her sense of duty, the one she boasts about too frequently. 

So, that means, I won't be free before 10:30am at least, that is if she doesn't come up with more excuses. Anyway, since I haven't got any classes after 11am tomorrow, and, I can't afford to watch a movie at an late-morning or afternoon show, I don't see any point in staying outdoors, doing nothing. Time is too precious when exams are ahead. And since money is precious too, now, I dunno if I can afford to travel much, to and fro, so, I may not get to see my 'mood-elevator' at all tomorrow. Anyway, I'll try and be patient in tonight's phone call, and sort things out, (with and within myself, of course), and try to ensure that I stay in a good mood for long enough (till tomorrow afternoon, at the least!)

I don't want a life like Basquiat's. I want a death like Basquiat's.

Limits

"ami amar limit jani. amay atkash na..."

That's what I kept saying on New Year night after getting drunk. Puspen said that people say the truth when they're intoxicated. Seems he was wrong for one another time again! He's wrong about a lot of things, when it comes to me, for that matter. I did not even try to study when I woke up in the middle of night. I just downloaded a few NeYo numbers, for a change. One of them was the female 'response' (and not version, mind you) to his chartbuster So Sick. So Sick was a common favourite once upon a time. Today, it's just one of the most appropriate songs I can relate to. Apart from Rupam, of course. And a lot of other songs, too. But, what has changed over the years, is the way I listen to sad songs. I used to use sad songs to squeeze out tears when I'm sad. Seemed filmy, back then. Now, I use them to swallow the tears. Like the one shown in movies, life, even in reality, everything is erstwhile. Anyway, I went to bed at 4am, woke up at 8:30am, ignoring all the alarms going off at various points of dawn. Shochi Mashi's daughter hasn't been released from the neighbourhood hospital, so there's no question of taking her to the other one near Tollygunj. I had a number of things to get photocopied. I made a written account of my prospective expenditures for the day, and showed it to Dad. 

Xerox: Rs. 40

Auto(transportation): Rs. 20

Fuchkas: Rs. 10

Total: Rs. 70

He gave a sheepish smile and said I'm crossing my limits. He himself spends less than Rs. 50 a day, and I'm a jobless adult, how dare I spend Rs.70 a day?! He just goes to office by scooter, and comes back home. He has a 'brunch' (breakfast+lunch) at 10:30am, that sustains him till evening. He has tea then, and comes back home by 10pm for supper, if there isn't any other invitation elsewhere. After a lecture, he threw a 100rupee bill at me. Clever! Now, how and where do I get the change?

Someone said in an SMS: nekami-r churante pouchhe gechhish ekebaare. Ah, I have crossed my limits again. When I didn't talk last afternoon, I was accused of keeping things to myself. When I'm expressing everything today morning, I'm being accused of melodrama! Fuck! Doesn't even know what's going on here. Doesn't even bother to find out. Just passes comments, and thinks it's perfect. I felt like replying 'Go to hell'. But I couldn't. I still haven't managed to get 'into' the system and use curses and slangs. I just can't. I'm too dramatic, eh? Maybe. I never asked anyone to 'adjust' to my ways, ever.

I haven't cleaned my room yet. Because, I got the two books I couldn't find. They say "Necessity is the mother of invention." And they're right.

Spanish homework done. Hospital cancelled. Counselling postponed. I had a dream in the morning about Farhan Akhtar. Not a troubling dream, somehow. But, it changed my mood. In fact, nearly, elevated my mood. I decided that I'll do what I feel like doing. Arrrgh, how many times have I decided that in the last few days! That's why love is a torment. One moment, you feel like doing what you should do (play by the rules, no compromise with your dignity, blah blah). The next moment, you feel like doing what you want to do (surrender to the 'magic', in one word).

Next, I crossed my limits of indecisiveness. I decided I'll do what I want to. Then I changed my mind. I said I'll do what I ought to do. Next I said what I feel like doing. The very next moment, I refused it. The, again, I said I'll do what I want to. Then, I finally rested on what I should do, ought to do. 

I have to go out to buy medicines for Shoch Mashi's daughter. Crap. 

And, escapism again!

Escapism again. To avoid dad's comment on my room, reeking with smoke. To avoid that vital phone call post midnight, the prospect of which sustains me throughout the day. Another nill and null "next day". I can't move on. Can't move forward, can't move backward. Just stay static. Stuck in the middle of an unfinished story. Not even the middle. Somewhere in the first-half. The first half of a fast-forwarded story. Huh! Fast-forwarded, eh? Still think it's true?

The call had come. To both the cellphones. Unlike the previous two nights. Does that mean my better half really wanted to talk? Ah, I'm learning the rules. I'm learning not to succumb to love. Not to LOVE. That's it. Oh no. That's not it. I'm learning to escape. With 16 'sutta's a day.

I should live for my brother. He's the only one left backstage after the drama is over. I asked that SFI guy of college to read this, when he asked me what I'd done all day. Strange thing to ask. By a strange person, indeed. Sohom Da's late night SMS pissed me off again. As usual. But, I'm lucky I was asleep then too. So, when I read it later, the 'pissing off' hardly lasted. I decided I'd give it a try. That ghazal by Pankaj Udhaas. Anyway, I have also learnt that it is not only wrong to be always right, it's useless too. The romanticism of "Everything I do, I do it for you" turns tragic when the person referred to as 'you' thinks it's meant for his/her worse. Pretty tragic. Pretty ugly. Pretty stupid. I'm stupid. Dammit.

Anyway, post-evening, I didn't study much, not even a whole page, but I sorted out which book to study which chapter from, in Computer Science. And, for the millionth time this month, I re-re-re...re-realised that it's next to impossible to do well in the Selection tests. It's next to impossible to mug up this huge syllabus. Next to impossible.

Disha rang up again in the evening. She asked me to tell her the names of all my classmates. She has decided to join a computer course. I asked her to join guitar classes as well. The Dean of Science at Xaviers had told her that Bio-tech has weak prospects, and it's one of the weakest courses in their college. So, she'll be taking up Chemistry, instead. Our call lasted for more than an hour. Both of us were engulfed in clouds of mosquitoes. So, it's not my unkempt room, after all, that's responsible for these creatures!

I came online. Downloaded songs again. Rupam again. Cigarettes again. An early dinner (nolunch, no evening snacks, yet, no hunger). Cigarettes again. I decided I may watch Billu Barber anyway, since more than nobody gave positive reviews. But, well, I dunno. I may not watch, again. If I do, it's going to be at the Wednesday morning show at Forum.

I went to bed again! No wonder that I fell asleep in no time. When I'm depressed, I sleep a lot. I feel like sleeping a lot too. On other normal occasions, I would fail to fall asleep within a couple of hours of going to bed, if I didn't have a tiring day!

Now, it's 2am. The 'next day' has begun. No 'meetings'. And therefore, no motives. All I have to do all day is/are:

[1] Take Shochi Mashi, my housekeeper, and her daughter to the Bangur Hospital at Tollygunj.

[2] Go to college, at least to find out what Sudipto was saying about the validity of our ID cards.

[3] Do the Spanish homework: Un parrafo sobre su habitación (a paragraph on your room)

[4] Go to the Spanish class in the evening.

[5] Try and study more, and think less. 

[6] Try and counsel myself. Anyhow. As soon as possible. I know I can't get help. This isn't something I can tell friends about. Hence, no outside help. Self-help is the only way out. Someone wrote on Orkut: Strentgh is nothing but how well you hide your pain. I was srtong, wasn't I? I need to stop the strentgh from draining away at this rate. Post-May, I can afford another melodrama, not before, not now, definitely.

¡vuelve!

Post-Valentine Blues

Not the kind Diptohjit had. Yeah, he said he smoked two packs, just because he didn't have a date on V-Day. Is it necessary? Doesn't it suffice to have friends and family members who love you, whom you love?

Anyway, no criticism now. Not at a time when I'm incapable of rectifying my own faults. Disha rang up. I had been avoiding calling her up, because I didn't want an elaborate version of her "weaknesses". If I see my best friends going weak at this time, it's going to be difficult to be strong myself (the reason why I shouldn't have watched Seven Pounds). Anyway, Disha cleared my misconceptions. Felt better. Had the bath. Used the shampoo pouch that was disturbing my vision all day. No, I can't elaborate on the story of the shampoo pouch here. Reasons:

1. This is public.

2. It's silly.

3. I don't know myself.

Then, finished the two last cigarettes left from Payal's gift yesterday. It wasn't a gift, sorry. I asked for it. It was a necessity I had asked for. Yeah, I'm losing control over my self-control powers too easily these days. As ususal, I went to sleep, to avoid the mood-turn-off. Actually, the bath had made me feel slightly better, in the sense, I had finally cried during bathing. To be specific, during the shampoo-application time. I needed to cry, I thought so. So, when I finally managed to cry, I thought I must be feeling slightly better. Anyway, I went to sleep. AGAIN!!

Few SMSes came and woke me up within an hour. Only one of the SMSes was really cheering. Sohom-da's. Somehow, the news that his exams had gone well brought joy. Why? He doesn't matter to me; does he? Maybe he does. It's the way we start loving the place we live in. Habit. Anyway, I left home with nothing much to do. Borrowed some money and bought three packets of Flake. Think I changed my brand? No. It's just that, I don't need to get the high anymore, any cigarette does for me. I just need to have a stick in my mouth, and gray smoke billowing out. That's stress-relieving enough. Shit man, why am I boasting about things I hate about myself? Ah, hatred! I should avoid that. It makes me feel suicidal. And my "habit" of justifying every act makes me try and justify suicides too! That's a latest 'development'(irony to be noted). Anyway, I'm supposed to study. I'm really, really supposed to study. Now. I'm listening to Rupam. His songs appeal to me because they seem to echo everything I think. But, they don't cheer me up. But, in spite of the depressing lyrics, they make me 'feel' energetic. Especially the Hasnuhana number.

Moumita Acharya's SMS, the new landline connection at my Durgapur home, etc...all should have added to the 'mood-elevation' process. Did they?

Maybe I need a chocolate. Ah, no money,baby.

Escapism

Yeah, what I hate the most. But, even I do things I hate myself. I've been escaping emotions by over- sleeping. I have been escaping responsibilities by switching off cellphones. Today morning, I didn't go to see off Payal. Told her that I couldn't wake up early enough. She sympathised. She believed that I could do that. Sleep over. Yeah, she's a friend, because she has the power to cheer me up. Anytime, always. But she doesn't know me well enough. That goes for Sritama, Deshraj etc and a lot of other people. In fact, a LOT. Anyway, I was having troubling dreams again. When I finally woke up, Baba refused to give me money, because I didin't go to college. (He doesn't know that I don't have college!) I managed 70 bucks, though. He added "no cigarettes". I had my breakfast. Then I SMSed a classmate whom I was supposed to meet over coffee in the afternoon that I have some work. Lied to him, eh? Oh no, not entirely, I had work. But not the work which I told him. I need to have a bath, a "mega" one. I need to clean my room. I need to find two books. I need to counsel myself, for whatever reason I'm depressed at the moment. I need time for myself. It's not morning anymore. I have already lost the energy I had woke up with. Let's see how much I can do.

Seven Pounds

Yeah, watched the movie. The poem from my previous post didn't get the desired appreciation. So, this movie shouldn't get the desired appreciation as well. Same reason. It went beyond the common man's intellect. My companions for the movie represent the common man, in this case. I liked the movie because, it wasn't a mainstream film. But i couldn't love it, because, according to me, it failed to satisfy the main criterion of a creation. According to me, a creation, be it a painting or a poem, or a movie or a peice of music, should satisfy the following criteria:

1. The common man should understand it.

2. The common man should love it.

3. It should, in all possible ways, benefit the common man.

If some work fails to satisfy the above criteria, it's a selfish work. It means that the creator has just expressed himself. His "expression" doesn't benefit the common man. So, he shouldn't expect the common man to spend money in 'viewing'  his work. Moreover, he isn't contributing to the society. So, the society ought not "sympathise" with him, his creative moods etc. That's why my poem wasn't satisfying. Because my friends found it "deep", "aatel" and beyond their comprehesive powers.

Anyway, so talking about the movie "Seven Pounds", it was beyond the comprehension of many. No wonder it won awards. (will comment on that sometime later). About Seven Pounds, it was the story of a man who's life shatttered in an accident. He lost his wife. Six other people died. He thinks he's reponsible. So he sets out to "help" the people who has been affected. Ok, nothing wrong with that. Great philanthropy,  must say. But, the "common" man isn't capable of such benevolence. That's wrong. He cares for those strangers, but not for his own blood-brother, not for his best friend. What kind of philanthropy does that show? Shedding your responsibility towards your family, towards yourself is a sin as well! That's wrong. Moreover, he's dying in the process, in order to donate his eyes, his heart (and his bone marrow). Why? Because the death of his beloved wife makes living worthless for him? Is that why he's not bothered about himself? Is that what the flick tries to show, to teach? If yes, the that's wrong. A movie that doesn't teach you to look at life in a better way, which doesn't teach you to overcome mishaps and move on, which teaches you, on the contrary, to succumb to the tragdey, isn't the kind for public viewing. It's a depressing movie all throughout. That's wrong. I'm not talking about myself, mind you. I like depressing stuff, but, they don't help me. So, I shouldn't watch them.

Anyway, afterwards, Payal treated us, since we had run out of money. I didn't have money enough to go back home! Poor me. I'm paying heavily for my days of extragavance! I guess, I'll have to stop smoking cigarettes now...may switch over to biris now...they come at 4 for a rupee!

Coming home, I spent the entire night before the "living screen". One after another "friends" came online. And I kept chatting. What the fucking hell am I doing?

The Time Thrown Away: Part-II

Some random reckless dreams

Some words beyond memory

Some moments spent on the bed

Eyes open, limbs spread

Silence within, horns outdoors

The dialogue with myself

Goes on without rhyme

Without limits, unrestrained.

 

The rings of gray smoke

Squeezing out energy

Writing, erasing, re-writing

Conscious conscience, unconscious

Of

The time thrown away.

In dribs and drabs.

And dreams. And drags.

 

The living screen before

Worth living life for;

The people without

The values devalued

The books lying

On the ruffled bed-sheet.

All reminders unwind

The time thrown away.

Have spent the entire morning on Orkut. A close friend's close friend was online. Around noon, I started studying. And I did more than three paragraphs. Two whole pages, in fact. Since morning the poem was forming in the mind. I guess that's why the first post was named so...Anyway, we'll go out post lunch. Either a movie or mall-hopping. By "we" I mean me and my two friends. The chowmein freaks I had referred to in the morning. But, I'm back on track, hopefully. 

 

 

 

The Time Thrown Away

Neither did I "try" to study last night, nor did I make any of the phone calls I was supposed to. I just switched off the PC, had a fag, and went to sleep. When I woke up at 5am in the morning, I found my last night's supper packed and kept at the head of my bed. Daddy cool!

Found a few unwelcome missed calls and SMSes on my cellphones. Had the food. Went to the loo and found that I have stomach upset. No idea why. I just had a few cookies, a sandwich from CCD and a burger from KFC all day. Nothing else. Anyway, replied to a few SMSes and calls, had a fag again, and slumped back into bed. I was having a beautiful dream about Mamata Banerjee staying at my home, when Baba barged into it and made me aware that it's 9am. He had brought some 'ideal' chowmein last night from Jimmy's kitchen. I had to swallow it for breakfast. I didn't though, not entirely. I have a hope that other chowmein freaks will come to my rescue. I rang them up, they were still asleep at 10am. I rang up Sritama, whom I was supposed to call last night. Her cell's switched off, indicating that she's asleep too. Diptohjit had SMSed, he'd smoked two whole packets yesterday, and now he has a bad infection in his throat. I don't understand why someone who's single, and, with extra emphasis, who has never been in love, needed to fag so much on Valentine's Day. It's 11am now, I have downloaded the Bong Connection songs, and now I'm downloading the songs of Cactus' new album. Maybe we'll watch a movie today. In short, I won't even do three paragraphs today.

Shift. Change. Improvement.

That's the way of Nature. Shifts. Changes. Whether for the better or for the worse, that's always relative, always debatable. 

Shedding all philosophies, coming to the point, the purpose of this blog has changed. No more showing off my "literay skills" or "intellectual ideas" or "personal stories". Just a daily diary kinda thing. By 'daily' I mean when I feel like, of course. When I have the time and the energy, and the opportunity, of course. Today is Valentine's Day, and like the previous year's one, I end up choosing this day to innaugurate something new. Last year it was a new Orkut profile, this year, THIS.

Anyway, my "selection" tests start from 13th March. I never knew college life could require studies, but it's showing it's true picture gradually. The politics. No, not those teenage fights. I mean serious politics here. SFI guys beating up Opposition, etc. No, I'm not anti-SFI. I support SFI in my own college. But, when it comes to other people, other SFI members in other colleges, I become skeptical. I see severe conservatism, loathful partial behaviors, and abominable arrogance. Watching the movie Kalbela only served to intensify my skeptical views about student politics. Keeping all those 'ultra-debatable' issues apart for a while, let's talk about studies. Why do I need to study? Because I need a job. Because I need money. Because...oh the list is endless. Money is more important than love. Because, where there is no money, there is no love. You'll believe when you read the stories of parents killing their kids dur to food shortages and joblessnesses. 

I had a great day today; the kind of 'days' I always want to have. But, I didn't study a word. Sorry for the exxageration. I read three paragraphs today. But, I have, at least, a million more paragraghs to read, understand and learn by heart before 13th March. Someone had said "slow and steady wins the race". Let's see how true it is. How three paragraphs a day can help me to complete a million paragraphs in less than a month. Fuck. I hate very few things, but study load tops the list eternally. Universally, eh? Dunno.

The only gift I got today was a packet of chocolate cookies. Only people I wished sent me "same to you" SMSes. Doesn't matter, because I never believed in the concept of "celebrating" V-days. But I believed in the day. A day, when busy people should take a break and explore love. (Remember the saying "love is the business of the idle, the idleness of the busy"). Even if love doesn't exist in reality, it does in dictionaries at least! The debate on love will be elaborated on some future post. Enough for today. Need to sleep, call up a few friends, and try to study. At least three paragraghs more.

Happy Post-Valentine's Days to every reader.

An Ode To Youth

For Sritama. But it turned out to be mine. I guess only a few, who had been nasty kids like me, will be able to relate to the first two stanzas. The last stanza is not "poetic" in the sense that I actually struggled to bring in rhythm within it. So, forgive me if it sounds 'aatel'.

AN ODE TO YOUTH

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither

The days spent on bed

The nights spent awake

The evenings out cycling

The afternoons in, studying

The mornings late and lazy

The memories still seem crazy!

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.

 

From the gullible kid to the 'grown-up' teen

From the gold-haired teddy to the hunk on screen

From the silent tears to the adamant fights

From childish claims to teenage rights

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.

 

The hours slithered away beneath careless feet

Innocence was, when 'goals' took a backseat.

Come prudent days, passions mellowed

Strained, strangled voices crying aloud

Amidst busy being, squeezed nostalgia

Leisure located in a crowded pizzeria

I grow older, I get deeper

I need not, yet I look back thither.